


Never Say Never

by Idrelle_Miocovani



Series: Blood and Wine [3]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Drama, F/M, Fluff, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Romance, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-16
Updated: 2017-07-16
Packaged: 2018-12-02 20:36:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11516988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Idrelle_Miocovani/pseuds/Idrelle_Miocovani
Summary: It's a night out with the gang at the Hanged Man when Lorenna Hawke discovers she and Fenris have something very important to discuss.





	Never Say Never

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for a quick writing prompt from Roguelioness on tumblr to get my writing inspiration back. Prompt was "Lorenna x Fenris - “I pray you, do not fall in love with me, for I am falser than vows made in wine.” ― William Shakespeare, As You Like It." 
> 
> Thanks for reading! :)

The night had started the way so many of them do—with friends gathered at their standard table, drinks in hand, laughter and mirth in abundance. They played Wicked Grace, as was their custom (well, a custom at Varric and Isabela’s insistence), which kept them occupied for their first few rounds. Eventually, Isabela proposed an entirely different game, one that involved the kind of personal bravery that came only after one was well and truly drunk and banking on everyone’s memory being a little hazy come morning. 

“Hawke,” Isabela slurred, her ale sloshing back and forth in her tankard as she readjusted herself. Her bootless feet were resting on the table. She had lost her boots several hours ago, for a reason Lorenna couldn’t quite remember (she had an inkling it had come from an unsuccessful attempt to rouse everyone into playing strip poker). “Your turn.” 

“I think I’ll pass,” Lorenna said, and tilted her tankard back, intending to disappear into her drink. A sharp slap stung her hand and she nearly dropped her ale.  

“Uh uh,” Isabela said, sinking back into her chair and putting her feet  back on the table. “That’s not how this works. You don’t get to drink unless you play the game.” 

“I bought this round, I’ll drink it if I want to.” 

“Oh, sweetheart,” Isabela said, her eyes dancing mercilessly, “that’s hardly the contract you agreed to. We all did, and we’ve admitted our haves and have nots. Now it’s your turn.” 

“Since when is a game a contract?” Lorenna said. 

“She’s only trying to speak your language,” Varric pointed out. “You are a mercenary, after all.” 

Lorenna rolled her eyes. She decided not to point out that Varric wasn’t entirely correct—her days with the Red Iron mercenaries were long behind her. “Sure.” 

“Even Merrill’s had her turn! And she’s… Merrill!” 

Merrill flushed and tried to hide her face. “You don’t have to say it like _that,”_ she said. 

“Fine, fine!” Lorenna said, trying to keep her scowl to a minimum. Truth be told, she enjoyed this kind of mocking camaraderie, but she preferred to be on the delivering, rather than the receiving, end. There was only so much about herself that she liked to reveal, even under the influence of alcohol. 

She caught Fenris’ eye. He made a face, then shrugged and sipped calmly at his wine. Lorenna noted that Isabela didn’t yell at him for doing so, even though he had not had his turn yet. 

Unfair. 

Though Isabela did have a soft spot for him, something which Lorenna was noticing more and more, with increasing dislike… 

“So…?” Isabela prompted.   

“Fine,” Lorenna said. “Never have I ever been in love.” 

She paused, waiting for her friends’ responses. Aveline drank immediately—they all knew she had once been married. Isabela drank too, as did Varric, which garnered a couple of raised eyebrows, but Lorenna felt it was unsurprising for both of them, considering the colourful lives they had lived. Merrill and Sebastian did not drink. 

“Well now,” Isabela began. “That wasn’t so hard, was—” 

Fenris drank.  He took a long swig of wine—long enough to clearly demonstrate that it was part of the game, a delayed response to Lorenna’s statement. He looked at Lorenna, his eyes meeting hers, then set his glass down and leaned back comfortably in his chair, arms resting behind his head. The curve of his arms—surprisingly muscular for an elf so lean—rested in the lantern light, the pale lyrium tattoos almost seeming to glow. 

In the fogginess of her mind’s current state, Lorenna remembered a night when those arms had been wrapped around her, in an embrace filled with an intensity she would probably never feel again. There had been beauty to those marks of his, but pain, too. And suffocating loss. A potential _what if_ snuffed out as quickly as a flame by a cold breeze.

They had never spoken of that night, continuing on instead as if nothing had happened to the point that it had never even occurred to their friends that they had slept together. But now, months later, Lorenna found it difficult to ignore the deep ache of the _should have_. 

“Yes?” Fenris said. 

Lorenna jumped, thinking he was speaking to her—but he was addressing the table, and their inquisitive looks. 

“Not what I was expecting,” Isabela said, her head cocked to one side. 

“I thought you didn’t remember anything,” Merrill said. “From before.” She avoided mentioning the lyrium tattoos directly. 

“I don’t,” Fenris said. 

Varric raised an eyebrow. “Keeping secrets from us, Broody?” he asked. “I’m surprised. You’re normally so… obvious.” 

“Do you mean to imply that I am unable of keeping my own personal life to myself?” Fenris said flatly. 

“No,” Varric countered. “What I meant was that you’re the kind of guy who goes around sticking his hand in people’s chests and discussing how your former master burned those marks into your flesh. _That’s_ obvious.” 

Silence settled around the table, everyone watching Fenris carefully for his reaction. His green eyes had narrowed, his gaze turned dark. 

But then he barked a laugh and shrugged. 

“Fair enough,” he said, taking another drink. “I suppose I am.” 

He glanced at Lorenna. 

Lorenna flushed. She turned away and became intensely interested in her drink. 

“Then who is she?” Isabela asked conspiratorially, finally removing her feet from the table. She leaned across it, her large bosom resting comfortably on the edge. “Or he, for that matter?” 

“What interest is it to you?” Fenris asked. 

“Oh, it’s a _great_ deal of interest,” Isabela replied. 

“Isabela,” Aveline said, a warning edging into her voice. Lorenna suspected, from her clear tone and words, that she was the only one left sober (except for Sebastian, who did not drink alcohol). “Leave him alone.” 

“Why don’t you bother Varric?” Fenris said. “I’m sure his story is far more interesting than mine. Or, at the very least, he can tell it in a much more entertaining way—” 

“Come on now,” Varric interrupted. “I admit, I _was_ in love, but you all know by now that Bianca is the only girl for me.” He eyed his crossbow where it sat in a corner, discarded but in close reach. 

“Of _course,”_ Fenris drawled. “Any one of us can see that.” 

Sebastian chuckled.

“I don’t think Varric’s _actually_ in love with his crossbow,” Merrill whispered to Isabela, her voice carrying much farther than her ale-influenced mind thought. “That doesn’t make sense, does it? How can you be in love with an inanimate object?” 

“No, kitten,” Isabela replied. “It’s just a figure of speech.” 

Varric stifled a laugh. Aveline winced. Sebastian groaned. 

“Keep your secrets, then, Fenris,” Isabela said. “I’m sure I will find out about them, soon enough.” 

“You’re very confident,” Fenris replied. 

“I’m told that’s an attractive trait in a woman.” 

“It’s an attractive trait in most people. That doesn’t mean I am attracted to you.” 

“Are you so sure about that?” 

“Yes.” 

Lorenna stood up. 

All eyes turned to her. 

“I need to pee,” she said, and left the building without further comment. 

Outside the Hanged Man, Lorenna found the space to clear her head. Finding a space clear of piss and vomit and Maker knows what else (it _was_ a Lowtown tavern after all), she leaned against the wall, arms folded tightly across her chest, head tilted back. With hardly any cloud cover, the stars were bright tonight, like tiny little pinpricks in the dark sky. She exhaled, her breath causing her long bangs to flutter against her forehead. 

What was the matter with her? Tonight had been like every other night, conversation topics and overly flirtatious remarks included. Nothing was out of the ordinary. Why was she so Maker-damned flustered? 

 _It’s the ale,_ she told herself. _You’ve had too much to drink. It makes you moody._

Maybe there was truth to that. But her feelings—even if they were intensified by drink—had to have come from somewhere. She knew she wouldn’t be able to resolve that puzzle, at least not tonight. At the moment wasn’t even sure _what_ she was feeling. 

“Hawke.” 

Lorenna spun, muscles tensed, then relaxed at the sight of Fenris poking his head out the door. 

“Oh,” she said, letting her hands drop. “It’s you.” 

“You’re jumpy tonight,” he said, sliding across the threshold and letting the tavern door bang shut behind him. 

“I’m always jumpy in Lowtown,” Lorenna said. “Especially at night. It’s called being proactive about one’s personal health.” 

“A wise attitude,” Fenris said, nodding. He joined her by the wall, leaning one shoulder against it. 

“I’ve seen my fair share of bandits.” 

“And Carta,” Fenris added. 

“The Coterie—” 

“Blood mages—” 

“Mercenaries—” 

“Thieves—” 

“Highwaymen—” 

“Slavers—” 

“Street thugs—” 

Fenris held up a hand. “I think we get the idea,” he said. “There are many reasons to be jumpy in Lowtown, and we’ve encountered most of them.” 

“Is that why you stay hidden up in your estate?” Lorenna asked. 

“I’m not hidden from you,” Fenris said. “Danarius’ mansion is only a few blocks from yours.” 

Lorenna rolled her eyes. 

“You are free to visit as you wish,” he added. 

“Am I?” Lorenna said, more bluntly than she intended. She looked away, shifting her weight awkwardly. Her mouth tasted of ale. 

“Are you angry with me?” Fenris asked. 

“What gave you that idea?” Lorenna snapped. 

“You’re angry with me,” Fenris decided. 

“NO, I’M NOT!” Lorenna’s shout drew the attention of several tavern-goers who had also ended up on the street outside. She took in their curious gazes and suddenly found herself furious at their intrusion. “Mind your own fucking business!” she yelled at them, taking a few menacing steps forwards and nearly tripping over her own feet. 

Fenris grabbed her arm and steadied her. “They are,” he said calmly. “Pay her no heed,” he added to the other tavern patrons. “She’s fine.” 

“I’m not fine,” Lorenna said quietly. 

Fenris let her go. “I know.” 

“Why did you take that drink?” Lorenna asked. “Back in the tavern, after my part in Isabela’s stupid game. Why did you drink?” 

“Because it was the truth,” Fenris said. “Is that not the point of the game?” 

“Yes,” Lorenna said. “But why did _you_ drink? You didn’t, until the very end. Like you were thinking whether you should or not.” 

Fenris sighed. “It was just a game, Lorenna.” 

He never called her by her first name. Except that one night. 

“This doesn’t feel like a game,” Lorenna said. “Are you in love with me?” 

The silence felt like it lasted an age. They stood, side by side, close enough to touch, but far enough apart that the distance felt almost tangible. Lorenna’s arms tightened about her chest, her eyes lingering on Fenris’ face. He didn’t meet her gaze, instead looking intently at the moonlit street. 

“Fenris,” Lorenna said, stepping in front of him so he had no choice but to look at her. _“Are you in love with me?”_  

The words nearly caught in her throat. 

“We shouldn’t talk about this now,” he said, turning to go back indoors. “We’ve had too much to drink, we can’t think clearly—” 

Lorenna’s arm shot out and she slammed her hand against the wall, barring Fenris from reaching the door. “You were thinking clearly enough to take that drink. Are you in love with me?” 

His body went still, and for a moment she thought she could see him considering the consequences of every answer he could give her. When he finally spoke, she could barely hear him. “Why do you even need to ask that question?” he said. 

“Because I need to know,” she said. “Because I need the truth. Because things between you and I have been different ever since that night, and I need to know why. Because you don’t just walk away from someone after sharing part of yourself and pretend it never happened.” 

“I’m not pretending,” he said. 

“Then why haven’t we talked about it?” Lorenna said, her voice low. She stepped towards him, closing the distance by a fraction. 

He hung his head. “There are some things that don’t have words.” 

“Not good enough,” Lorenna said. She took another step. “Try again.” 

“I don’t know _how.”_  

“Try again,” she murmured, taking another step. They were so close now, she could feel his hand nearly brushing hers. 

“I am a fool,” he said suddenly, his intense eyes finding hers. “And so are you.” 

Lorenna blinked. _“Me?_ But—” 

He kissed her, pulling her in close, warm arms wrapped firmly around her. Her breath caught in her throat, and then she kissed him back with a fury and a longing that had been building for months. All thought of their conversation faded from her mind. All she could think about was how _good_ and _right_ this felt— 

And how his lips tasted of wine. 

Fenris drew away, his hand brushing her hair out of her eyes. “Ask me that question again,” he said. 

“Which one?” 

“The one you have been asking me all night. You deserve a proper response.” 

Lorenna chuckled and she touched her forehead against his. “Are you in love with me?” she said gently. 

“Yes,” Fenris said. 

He didn’t say anything else. 

“Is that it?” Lorenna asked. 

Fenris raised an eyebrow. “I thought you would appreciate a blunt answer,” he said. “I didn’t think it was wise to inflate my answer with colourful, but meaningless, fluff. But if you prefer, I can indulge you—” 

“No, I don’t—” 

“You are the first thing I think about in the morning,” he said. 

“Fenris, I—” Lorenna could feel herself flushing. She willed herself to stop it, but failed miserably. 

“And you are the last thing I think about at night,” he continued. “You are the brightest light in my life, and I am a better man for it—” 

“No, don’t—”

“Your companionship brings me more joy than I could ever imagine—” 

Lorenna kissed him, pushing him into the wall, one hand running through his hair, the other gripping his shoulder.  

“If that’s your way of asking me to stop, it is a very good method,” Fenris said, slightly breathless. 

“I agree,” Lorenna replied. 

“Though you do taste like ale.” 

“Sorry.” 

“Remind me to show you the value of good wine someday soon.” 

“Soon?” 

He touched her cheek. “Soon.” He paused, one hand finding hers. “You asked why we never talked about that night,” he said quietly. “And you are correct—it is not something either of us should have avoided for so long. But whether it was embarrassment or an inability to accept what was happening to me and the memories that were resurfacing—” he glanced at his marks— “I foolishly decided it was easier to ignore you and pretend you were nothing more than a friend. And for that, I apologize.” 

Lorenna sighed. “No,” she said. “You have had more to deal with than I ever could. The things you go through… the reasons you left… I can’t imagine. I’m sorry.” 

“Lorenna,” he said, “my personal struggles do not invalidate your personal feelings.” 

“It’s all right,” Lorenna said. “You can tell me I’m a whiny ass to my face, I can deal with it.” 

“No,” Fenris said. “You’re _not_ a whiny ass.” 

“Quit being polite.” 

“No.” 

“Fine.” 

Fenris chuckled. “You do realize that you’re going to have to go back in there and apologize to Isabela for lying during her game.” 

Lorenna frowned. “Lying about what?”

“Never having been in love,” Fenris said. 

“I’m not—I am—I—” 

Lorenna flushed bright red. 

“Your turn,” Fenris said. “Why did you say you had never been in love?” 

“Technically speaking,” Lorenna said, gesturing wildly as she spoke, “I didn’t lie. _Technically_ speaking, in that _very specific moment_ , I didn’t know that I was in love with the very handsome elf sitting next to me.” 

“That’s quite… technical,” Fenris said. “And now?” 

Lorenna smiled. 

“And now I know better.” 

They would have a lot to talk about in the coming days.


End file.
